


Losing a Few Hours with You

by misura



Category: Kong: Skull Island (2017)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 00:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13869693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Mason and Conrad get trapped in a cave together.





	Losing a Few Hours with You

"The good news is, I don't think they can follow us here," Conrad says, and Mason feels irrationally annoyed by the fact that he already seems to be catching his breath, that he offers his opinion in a calm, controlled voice. 

"Whatever 'they' are." Mason looks back the way they've come. The narrow passage seems, well, narrow. "Did we ever settle on a name for them?"

Conrad flashes her a smile. "Alas. No World War II veterans with a propensity for naming things this time around."

"No friendly natives, either," Mason notes, satisfied to hear her voice come out sounding as steady as Conrad's. She wonders if that means he's feeling as not-steady as she is.

"Pity," Conrad agrees. "On the bright side, it's just the two of us."

"Right," Mason says. "We've gotten through worse." No example readily comes to mind, but still.

Conrad stills for a moment. "Not quite what I was getting at, but yes."

Mason winces at the sound of a hopefully-not-so-unstoppable force meeting solid rock. It's followed by the sound of scrabbling claws, interspersed with angry yips.

"Hungry?" Conrad asks casually, rummaging about in his backpack.

Mason's pretty sure he's faking it. On the other hand, there are really only two options here. Either they're safe, or they're about to be dead meat. In the first case, some food might be a good idea; in the second, where's the harm in trying to scarf down a last meal?

"I could eat," she says. "Do we have an actual plan, by the way, or are we going to improvise?"

Conrad shrugs. "From what little we've seen, I would assume these creatures to be mainly nocturnal. In two, three hours, they ought to return to their nesting grounds."

Mason thinks two, three hours doesn't sound so bad. "Right."

"Of course, I may be wrong," Conrad says. "In which case, remind me to apologize for getting us stuck here."

Mason wonders if their light is going to last. Getting stuck here in the dark with those ... _things_ still out there sounds like a very bad idea. "That apology and two bucks might buy me a coffee."

"Live a little, Weaver," Conrad says. "Make it a beer."

"Actually, I was kind of hoping to live a lot. And, you know, for a long time."

"Perhaps you should consider changing careers," Conrad says. "I hear there's good money in wedding pictures. Portraits. Gardening magazines. That sort of thing."

"Thought about it," - for all of half a second, if that - "but, I mean, if I go, who's going to be there to keep you out of trouble and tell you when a bad idea's a bad idea?"

"Ah," Conrad says. "Yes. There's that, naturally. I do admit, the place wouldn't be the same without you."

"How about you?" Mason asks. They're stuck here for two, three hours; it's not as if there's anything other to do than talk. (They might fake taking a nap, she supposes, but honestly, what would be the point?) "Any nice, safe jobs you've been tempted by?"

"Never," Conrad says. He sounds very certain. Not for the first time, Mason wonders what happened to? with? Conrad to make him quit? get kicked out of? the SAS.

"Guess we're both stuck with the job we've got then, huh?" Mason's heart rate is finally slowing down a bit, as her body is catching on to the fact that hey, she's not dead yet and reasonably likely to remain alive and breathing for a while yet.

Conrad's smile lasts a bit longer this time. "Guess so." He looks a bit worse for wear, hair a little messy, shirt sweaty and streaked with dirt.

Mason doesn't exactly have any illusions about looking picture perfect herself. Plus, this kind of look - it fits Conrad, somehow. She can imagine him clean-shaven and smelling of soap, but it's hard to picture Conrad in, say, a business suit.

Some people, Mason supposes, simply look good. The smile and the personality don't hurt, either.

Conrad clears his throat. "Given that we'll be stuck here for some time, do you want to - "

"Yes," Mason says quickly, before she can get embarrassed about Conrad's abilities apparently extending to mind-reading. "Definitely."

Conrad stills again. Mason wonders if it's something she's said. "You're being rather enthusiastic about this."

"Hey." Mason shrugs. "Just taking the good along with the bad. You were going to say 'make out', right? Or something along those lines?"

"Or something along those lines," Conrad agrees. "I do regret the less than ideal circumstances."

"Beds are for wusses," Mason says. "Well, wusses and us, if we ever make it back to the civilized world alive. But you know what I mean."

"We might want to try to preserve oxygen," Conrad says, which sounds slightly alarming until Mason spots the faint grin on his face.

"As in: talk less? Sure. I guess I can do that."

"I never doubted you for a second," Conrad says, demonstrating an alternative to speech before Mason can come up with a way to get in the last word.

Then again, it's a pretty good alternative, so Mason figures she'll let it go for now.


End file.
